


(Everybody Knows) The Good Guys Lost

by winter_angst



Series: Detective AU [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Police, Character Death, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Murder Mystery, Pre-Relationship, eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:40:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26015143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/pseuds/winter_angst
Summary: Jack comes from a sleepy small town station to the bustling world of a city precinct. He’s having a hard enough time adjusting never mind a snappy omega and a murder. But, maybe, if they work together they can uncover the killer. Assuming that they don’t kill each other first.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Detective AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1910242
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	(Everybody Knows) The Good Guys Lost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kalika999 (kalika_999)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/gifts).



Jack didn’t meet Officer Rumlow until almost two weeks into the job. He was a transfer from a small town to a precinct in the city which was jarring in its own regard. 

Adjusting to city life, where there was always so much noise and commotion was something...but his new co workers were something else entirely. 

He met with the LT on his very first day in the substation. Lieutenant Steve Rogers was a large Alpha, muscular and blond with a tidy desk and a friendly smile that made him appear ill-suited for the position. Jack fully expected an Alpha who was well aware of the power he yielded but Lieutenant Rogers did not seem to carry himself with an overt pride. Jack liked that. He felt like he would be a good Lieutenant to work beneath. 

“I’m Lieutenant Rogers but please, call me Steve.” Is how the Alpha began the welcoming chat and he closed it with, “Remember my door is always open and welcome again, Officer Rollins.”

From there he met with Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes who went ahead and showed him to his desk and around the rest of the substation. The red headed officer who had glowered at him on his way in looked no more friendly knowing he was an employee. 

“This is Officer Barton who does… Well, his job sometimes.” Sergeant Barnes shrugged down at the man playing Minecraft on one of the four desktops around him. 

The blond gave them an affronted look. 

“I’m on break.”

“You’re not actually.” 

“Uh, the phone’s not ringing hence, Barton break.” the man shot back while eyeing Jack. “Who’s this? Dark and silent type I see — ooh Bucky, you have competition!”

The Sargent colored a bit at that but an incoming call seemed to save him. “Damn, saved by the death of a civilian.” Barton pressed a button on his headset. “You’ve reached the 23rd Presinct substation. Please leave a message.”

“Clint!” 

The beta grinned. “Ah I’m just messing with you, Chief. I’ll patch you right over!” Clint hit a button and gave the theatrical cringe. “Oof bad day to piss Fury off, huh? Say would you be a doll and go see if Stevie can take the oh-so-important chief’s call? He’s extra yell-y.”

Jack’s own station had been small and it was a county run station. This was a whole new world where ‘jurisdiction’ got messy and county lines actually meant shit. But he knew the role of Sergeant enough that doing this was well outside his job description. 

“One moment.” 

He went back to the Captain’s office and Jack jumped when he noticed the blond suddenly right beside him. “They’re totally banging, you know. I’m Clint Barton, dispatcher. You’ll get to hear my beautiful voice almost every day for the rest of your life.”

“So if I were you, I’d quit.” 

Another Beta bustled past, wearing a lab coat covered in what looked like blood. Crime scene analysis he assumed. 

“You’re so funny Stark!” Clint snapped back before he was in the computer chair and typing rapidly. 

Jack glanced around for someone of authority to have come by but it didn’t seem there were any new bodies milling around. 

“I have a 10-57 on the corner of Malbrooks and Pine, EMT already dispatched. I need a 10-58 while they get that cleared up.” 

There was a beat before Clint nodded at whatever confirmation he got. “Parker and Quill are on my 10-57. BOLO for a silver four door Toyota, dent in bumper with rusting around wheel wells. Plate 1-foxtrot-hotel-43. I’m running it now but call in when you have my 10-37.” 

So clearly Clint did work and he worked quickly. The Minecraft screen was gone and replaced by programming to run the plates. 

“You’re set to transfer,” Bucky came back out.

“Gee thanks. You’re such a swell guy doing that for me.” Clint gave him a toothy grin, pressed his headset and said, “10-4. 10-38 now in progress, let me know if you need back up.” There was hardly a breath as he hit the phone and said, “Thank you so much for your patience Sir. Lieutenant Rogers is a busy man, you see. But he made the time to chat. Transferring you now.”

“I have your squad car out back, Rollins.” Sergeant Barnes nodded his head at him. 

Jack was feeling out of element already. 

•• •• •• •• 

When Jack called in for an omega officer to assist in a search he expected the kind of omegas he was used to.

Docile, sweet, smelling faintly of something fruity yet floral that Jack could never put his finger on. The desk jockey types who were a friendly face when someone had to come by the station to complain about who’s dogs were eating their chickens or if they thought the neighbor’s bull knocked up their heifer. The ones who tended to dress down because the uniform was too brash on their bodies. It didn’t fit properly, not with such soft curves and slim posture. 

Here things were different and he knew that. The videos HR made them all sit through were mostly focused on omegas in the workplace and all the ‘good touch and bad touch’ that was really just common decency (but really goddamn hard, if he was to be honest). 

He admired from a distance back home and he wouldn’t change that now. The hooker he’d nabbed was standing moodily against the cracked brick and it pained Jack to see an omega so young putting themselves in such dangerous situations. He could have been with his Alpha, safe. But things didn’t always work out that way in the city and he knew that. Folks didn’t tend to care much about each other. 

He gladly would have issued a citation but the bag of something that was shoved down the front of those too tight pants was more than he could ignore. Prostitution was one thing, drugs was another and it was far too soon to even consider breaking rules.

Barton, on dispatch overnight for some reason, had laughed at his request when he radioed in. It was policy to have an omega search an omega not only for comfort and safety of both parties but to avoid any allegations. A pat down was one thing but this was skin to skin which fell under an omega’s job. 

“Well you're in luck buddy,” Clint snorted. “The ‘omega officer’ happens to be working tonight. It’s been nice knowing you.”

Jack shook off the comment though it peaked his interest a bit. When the second black and white pulled up behind him he cast a look at the omega who was glancing nervously at the alley as if considering running. 

“Don’t try it.”

The omega backed down quickly, staring fixedly between his ratty sneakers. Jack rested his hand over his gun on instinct as he approached the vehicle. Just because it looked like a cop car didn’t mean it was one. The door popped open as the flashing lights went out Jack glimpsed the omega.

A strong jawline and quiffed hair. “You the omega Officer?” Jack asked.

“Yeah.” It wasn’t the honey sweet voice he remembered from Shelley who spent most of her time behind the desk. But he wasn’t in the country anymore. “Sit your ass on the fucking curb and shut the fuck up.”

Such crass words from an omega seemed...wrong somehow but as the second officer stepped closer and Jack was able to admire him a bit more, it sounded much better. He filled out the uniform well, maybe a bit too well. In fact it ought to have been a crime for him to cram that ass in those pants. Jack snapped out of his inappropriate fantasy quickly cranking his head back to assure the hooker was obeying.

He was starting to sit in front of Jack’s car when the omega, now close enough for Jack smell properly (fuck, did he smell good; like sandalwood and citrus) snapped, “Not you! I’m talking to Officer ‘I need an omega’ over here. Ass on the curb.”

Jack opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. 

“I’m sorry, am I speakin’ too fast for you?” The Officer spun on heel to glower up at Jack. It would have been laughable if the fire in his eyes wasn’t burning so brightly. 

He didn’t know when he sat down but next thing Jack knew, his ass was on the pavement. He’d never been spoken to by an omega like this and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Alright, hands against the wall.” 

“I didn’t do nothing.” 

“Save it. Sooner we start the soon we can end this. Unless you wanna spare me the time and tell me what you’ve got on you.” 

Jack watched the suspect as he made a stalling sound. “Alright, man, listen. They’re just heat inducers. Nothing big.” 

“Back working the street huh?”

Jack deduced that this was a beat Officer Rumlow worked frequently. He had a rapport with the people, prostitutes, small time dealers...the whole lot. Back home they didn’t have prostitutes. This was a whole new world for Jack so he was treading carefully, adjusting to a new rule set as well a totally foreign turf. 

“Fuck, man, shit’s expensive. And I’m not talkin’ drugs -- I’m off that shit, like I told. Cleaned up an’ all that.”

“You’re still copping prescription drugs, Danny.” 

“You really gotta haul me in for that?” 

Officer Rumlow sighed and twisted around to glare at Jack. He wasn’t certain how calling him in was so very offensive but he didn’t want to make waves so soon. “What do you think Mr. I Need An Omega Officer. Wanna drag him in or issue a citation.” 

“Citation?” Jack wasn't sure that was the right answer. He thought they should bring him in but clearly Officer Rumlow was well versed in this crowd. 

“Oh good, you do have a brain.” Officer Rumlow turned back to the perp. “Give me the pills and don’t fuck around and skip your hearing. I know where to find you when that warrant goes out.” 

“I won’t skip, I promise. Thanks, man.” 

Officer Rumlow wrote it up, took the pills and the omega hightailed it down the street. Office Rumlow stowed the pills in his pocket to be later added to evidence and marched over to where Jack was. He hadn’t gotten to his feet, too absorbed in watching him work. He had an interesting way about him. Tough and fearless but also gentle enough to lull suspects into feeling secure and safe around him. 

“Don’t you ever pull me off the job for a fucking pat down.” 

Jack blinked at the tone and, in an attempt to level himself, stood. “I’m doing what I’m supposed to.” 

Rumlow didn’t seem too frightened of the Alpha towering over him and on a normal day Jack would have appreciated that but not right now, not when he was being scolded like a child by an omega. 

“Oh, you’re one of those, huh? Gotta play it by the book. Justice isn’t black and white, Rollins.” How did Officer Rumlow know his last name? “Desperate people do desperate things and locking them up just makes shit worse. I’ve got connections around here. People who trust me tell me when serious shit is going down. And I’m not about to let some hicktown Alpha fuck that up for me.” 

Rumlow poked him hard in the chest and Jack was rendered speechless. This wasn’t the kind of omega Jack was used to. Far from it, in fact. And he had no idea how to handle it. 

“If you’re gonna be on my turf you’re gonna follow my fucking rules.”

Officer Rumlow side stepped around him and went back to his black and white. Jack stood there feeling stupid. 

** ** ** **  
Jack grabbed his rover in preparation for his second graveyard shift. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about his interaction with Officer Rumlow, mostly because he was a bit ashamed to admit that he was lectured by an omega. Deep down he knew it was wrong to feel that way but some emotions were biological and couldn’t be helped. It had sat with him his entire day. He’d gone home and stood under the shower spout, mulling the conversation over and over in his mind. He’d known it would be difficult to start out. He had no allies, he was a stranger and other officers were naturally wary of new blood. Jack would have to prove himself, stand out and blend. But all the officers were at least friendly to his face. 

Rumlow definitely wasn’t. 

Jack still couldn’t understand where he’d misstepped. Back home the book was a guide but here, where serious crimes were aplenty, he had assumed things needed to be done properly even if it was tedious. Drug possession, especially with scripts, was an arrest worthy crime. Rumlow had just taken the drugs as evidence without booking him. Jack had weighed in on reporting it but no one trusts an officer who gets IA involved and he wasn’t out to be seen as a blue flamer. As far as this precinct was concerned his years working in a small country county were moot and he was a new blood. It was an oversight Jack couldn’t believe he’d overlooked. 

“Hey there,” Clint was working again, leaning back in his desk chair eating a bag of Cheetos. “Heard you got a talkin’ to.” 

Jack was shocked and, admittedly, embarrassed that conversation had been leaked. “Uh…” 

“Ah, don’t worry about it. Rumlow is a hot head. You kinda gotta be to be seen.” Clint chomped on another Cheeto and then said, “On the plus side you get a city car tonight. On the not so plus side, you’ve gotta partner.” 

“A partner? Who?”

“Listen, you’re not gonna believe it. It’s your buddy from last night! Assuming you don’t kill each other I’m very interested to hear how tonight goes. Guess who picked up a double. We got a full beat tonight so I’m going to be one busy boy. But don’t worry, I’ll be radioing you two plenty.” 

Jack glanced skyward and wondered why the higher beings wanted to torture him. Clint straightened up, something apparently radioing in. Jack decided to leave him to it while he anxiously awaited for Rumlow to appear. He had been perfectly happy to avoid the omega as much as possible but now… Well, now, he was shit out of luck. He wasn’t going to bother brass about it. Instead he tried to familiarize himself with the area, stopping by the coffee area to brew a mug. 

“Coffee’s shitty as hell.” 

Jack almost choked on it. Rumlow was standing at his shoulder looking a bit less pissed off than last night but far from friendly. “Is it?” Jack asked stupidly.

“You should know, you’re the one drinking it. There’s a decent drive through just down the road. We outta get out there anyway.” 

No hello, no recognition of his behavior last night. Jack didn’t understand anything about working in the city. 

“Okay…” Jack drawled. 

Clint was still on the call, a 10-16 that seemed to have been wrapped up by the 10-24 Clint relayed to a second car headed out. 

He finished in time to call out to Jack, “Have fun now, you hear?”

Jack didn’t get a chance to answer because Rumlow held up his middle finger. Apparently workplace hostility wasn’t taken as seriously as he thought it was. 

“Oh you crazy kids,” Clint tutted. 

Sitting in a car alone with Rumlow was a new kind of uncomfortable. There was a lot Jack wanted to say but he didn’t know how to best go about it. At the end of the day he was still an omega and Jack’s mother had raised him to treat them properly. 

“That kid last night’s been on the street since he was fourteen. Got into a mess some big time drug dealer but flipped and we were able to catch him.” Interesting, Rumlow was offering an explanation not an apology. “He’s an informant of mine. I look the other way with petty crimes like prostitution. I tried to get the kid off the streets but… It’s a bottomless hole.”

“I… I didn’t know.” 

“Of course you didn’t.” Brock sounded scolding again. “How the fuck would you? Listen, I’m not gonna apologize for last night. You and me both know you were outta fuckin’ line.” 

“Excuse me? In what way was I out of line. I didn’t know the kid was your informant. I was treating him like I’d treat any perp.” 

“No, you were treating him like you’d treat an omega. That kid isn’t made of glass, he’s not gonna shatter if you treat him like a fucking human being.” 

Jack opened his mouth to argue but the radio squawked and called in a 10-49 that made both Jack and Brock groan. The ride to the out traffic light was silent and tense and they ended up spending fifty minutes just directing traffic. When they were done, Brock asked where Jack wanted to stop for dinner. The prior conversation was shelved. 

“I don’t know many places around except the chains. McDonalds and the like.” 

Brock wrinkled his nose. “You put that shit in your body?”

“Sometimes,” Jack said a bit defensively. 

“There’s a taco truck on Boulder Ave. Got the best fucking chicken tacos you’ll ever have.” 

Jack wasn’t exactly certain that tacos were more healthy than a cheeseburger but for the sake of things remaining calm, he agreed. They ate outside, leaning against the side of the car, window down so they could hear the radio. Jack had to admit that yes, these were the best chicken tacos he’s ever had. They got a hefty discount too. It was smart seeing as no one would dare rob an overnight food truck that cops frequented. A win-win for both parties. 

The radio buzzed to life. “You two still alive?”

Brock sighed and leaned to grab the radio. “10-30 Barton.” 

“Hey,” Clint protested. “Only I can say it’s an unnecessary use.” 

“I’m eating tacos. It's a 10-6.” 

“You’re no fun. Over and out.” 

Jack had studied the code studiously because they weren’t used where he had worked previously. The last two had tripped him up. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Rumlow asked around a mouthful of food.

Back at home, omegas never spoke with a full mouth. 

“I don’t know the codes you just used.” 

Brock swallowed and snorted. “I forget you’re from the boonies. 10-30 is unnecessary use of the radio. 10-6 is busy, only relay if urgent. But, in our precinct, it’s just a nice way of say fuck off.” 

Jack took another bite and thought about the Beta for a moment. “Clint seems nice.” 

“Clint is Clint. He’s damn good at what he does. But he can be annoying.” 

Jack could see that, even though he thought that Clint meant well. Plus, it probably got boring sitting at a computer all night. They finished up their tacos and Jack took one last drag of his Coke and then they were heading out. 

“He’s the polar opposite of his girlfriend.” 

“Girlfriend?”

“The redhead currently worked the front desk because she’s on Rogers’ shit list for lying to get a warrant. The fucker had it coming, though. And they found the body in the place. But sometimes, you gotta follow the rules. Fury reamed Rogers good though, so I respect him benching her.”

“Huh.” Jack wouldn’t have thought someone as bright and energetic as Clint would choose someone so morose to spend his life with. “Guess that’s the way it goes sometimes.”

“A-fucking-men to that.”

They were sitting at a redlight on a deserted street. Cars line the sidewalk but everyone seemed to have settled in. It was pushing three am so maybe even the night owls had decided to call it quits early. Brock was going to park by an area commonly congregated by transients and wait for more calls. Driving around was growing increasingly boring but, Jack soon realized, sitting around was even more so. 

“I hate nights like this.” Rumlow announced. “It doesn’t feel right, y’know? It’s eerie and makes me wonder what the mopes are up to.” 

“Mopes?”

“Perps, pushers, criminals. Y’know. That’s just what we call ‘em here.” 

Jack had known to expect new slang. “So you guys don’t use shake cards anymore?”

Rumlow laughed and Jack thought his laugh was nice. Rich but not too boisterous. It didn’t have the dainty overtone that he heard from omegas back home, but it still sounded sweet. “This ain’t the ‘90s, pal. We got rid of those years ago.” 

Jack’s cheeks colored a bit. “We used them back home. I didn’t realize they were so...out of date.” 

“I bet they worked just fine in your one horse town but we got way too many perps and not enough hands to file all that junk. Digital all the way.” Rumlow leaned back his head against the headrest and sighed heavily. “I’d kill for a burglary right now with a good chase. Or an altercation at a bar. But not a domestic. I hate that he-said, she-said bullshit.” 

The radio came to life. “Guess what kids, I’ve got 10-16 for you.”

“Fucking Christ.” Rumlow sighed heatedly. 

He made no reach for the radio so Jack did. “Copy that.” 

They pulled up in front of a low income apartment building, a woman standing on the sidewalk doing what could only be described as scream-crying. The sweater she had was torn but other than she appeared physically okay at first glance. They stepped out of the car as a skinny guy came rushing down the steps. 

“You dumb bitch, you called the cops? I didn’t do nothing to you!”

“Let’s all just settle down,” Rumlow said, hand resting his side arm. “I take it you called?”

“He put his hands on me!” she shrieked. “He did.” 

“Bullshit!”

“Hey,” Jack said sharply and the man, a Beta, quieted. 

“Let’s go talk, you and me.” Rumlow’s voice was gentle and the woman, also an omega, nodded reluctantly. 

That left Jack with Mr. I Didn’t Do Nothing. 

In the end they took Mr. I Didn’t Do Nothing in and he was booked for assault. Clint grinned at them and dubbed them the new ‘dream team’. They spent the last of their shift in the office working on the report and by the time the first shift came trickling in Jack was looking forward to a solid eight hours of shut eye. He was almost out the door when Rumlow bumped his shoulder and said, “You don’t completely suck to work with.” 

Jack wasn’t sure what to make of that but he thought it was progress. 

** ** ** **

Working with Rumlow had its moments. He was irritable sometimes and other days he was pleasant and funny. Jack learned his first name was Brock but he didn’t think they were on a first name basis yet. Nightly dinners helped bridge the distance a bit. Whether it was a two am stop at Denny’s or satisfying Jack’s need for some grease at the nearest Burger King or McDonalds. Cases came in steadily, most were domestics with the occasional drag racers taking advantage of the dead streets in residential blocks. It left a lot of time to chat which they did. Liberally. 

Brock openly complained about not being a detective yet, about Rogers insisting that he was working on it. Jack hadn’t seen much of him but he was never one to actively track down brass. Jack shared about life as a cop in the ‘hicktown’ that Brock liked to call it. Brock finally admitted that it didn’t sound as awful. Jack admitted that it was painfully boring. Breaking apart the same bar brawl every Saturday; bringing the town alcoholic into the drunk tank; Miss Rions reporting sound complaints for every party her neighbors had that she wasn’t invited too. 

Not knowing everyone was still an adjustment but having a partner helped a bit, even if he was still adapting to him. 

It was on their sixth night out together when they got the call. It wasn’t Clint but a redhead young woman who introduced herself as Wanda. Jack didn’t know her well, she wasn’t anywhere near as chatty as Clint was. “We’ve got a 10-57 at the intersection of 125th and Park.”

Jack snagged the radio. They were only a few minutes out. “10-4 heading there now.” 

Brock lit up and they were off. It took just under two minutes and Jack’s stomach dropped. There was a cluster of people obscuring someone on the pavement. “”Step aside,” Brock barked and they parted. 

Jack’s stomach plummeted. Brock froze for all of a second before he grabbed his radio and requested a bus to their location. He knelt down, applying pressure to the gunshot wound in the omega’s chest. Jack approached to push the crowd back, noting the tight skimpy clothing and the stench of artificial heat. “Hang in there, kid.” Brock murmured.

Danny stared wide eyed up at Jack, blood on his tongue and lips. His shirt was sodden around the tear. He drew in a rasping breath and Jack suspected the lead had ripped through his lungs. Jack swallowed dryly and knelt down to place his hand over Brock’s. 

He reached up gripping Brock’s uniform with big wet eyes, clinging onto the fabric as he tried to life. The kid let out another wet exhale and blood gargled out his mouth. They could hear the ambulance in the distance, the parametics were so fucking close. 

But Danny’s grasp laxed and by the time they rested on the pavement he was staring skyward, dead. Jack had to pull Brock back to give the paramedics space as he swore viciously, trying to resuscitate him. Their hands were both bloodied and the prostitutes were still in a shocked gaggle looking at their fallen comrade. Brock’s breathing was erratic and angry. And when the paramedics made the hand signal for a flat line. He punched the brick wall behind him. Jack was still in shock. He had known to expect things like this, for people to die around him. But knowing and seeing were two drastically different things. 

Brock stalked over to the car and called in for a plain clothes to come and then he and Jack got to roping off the area. The prostitutes were unhappy that they weren’t allowed to leave but they needed their statements. Jack got down to that, mostly to keep busy, while they waited for the detective. He was prompt, which was nice. The tarped over body was unnerving. Brock smelled of anger and sadness and everything in Jack wanted to comfort him but he knew it wouldn’t be received well and Jack wasn’t even sure he could make this better. What kind of animal gunned down an omega? 

The detective was a small Beta with dark brown eyes and brown hair streaked with silver. He was driving a slick back and seemed very demure as he dunked beneath the tape. There was a side arm strapped to him, the only indication he was an officer. He was wearing a pressed gray shirt and slacks. 

“Hell of a night,” he said looking at Brock. 

Brock’s lips were set in a thin line. “Banner.” 

“Rumlow. What do we have?”

“Drive by. One victim. Deceased.” 

Banner knelt down in front of the body, lifting the tarp to examine the victim. Brock averted his eyes, a muscle twitching in his jaw. Once more Jack was hit with the urge to wrap his arms around the upset omega. But thankfully, he knew better. The last thing Brock needed was to be coddled. He was angry. He wanted revenge. But that was dangerous in its own regard. He was too close to this case and taking him off of it was going to be disastrous. 

“This is your boy.” 

“He was.” 

“Shit.”

“Shit,” Brock agreed grimly. 

“You collected statements already?”

“I did,” Jack volunteered and Banner looked at him hard. 

“They got drive bys where you come from?”

“No sir.” 

“Type up your reports and go home. Both of you.”

“With all due respect,” Jack began but Brock interjected with, “Fuck you Bruce. We’re not calling it a night.” 

Banner sighed heavily. “You’re not touching this case Brock.”

“Not officially no.” 

“Brock.” 

“Bruce.” 

The detective sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stark is coming here for reconstruction. I want you both gone before he gets here. You get caught, I had nothing to do with it.” 

“Suddenly interested in playing by the rules?” Brock jeered. 

“I’m gonna ignore that because you’re grieving. Officer Rollins, please take your partner back to the precinct.” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Call me Bruce.” 

“Yes Bruce.” 

The detective gave him a fond but exasperated smile. “Gotta love the new bloods.” 

Rumlow didn’t say a word the entire ride and Jack could see the gears turning in his head. Going through suspects. It was clear that Brock had considered his informant a friend and that just made this mess all the more awful. At the station he went to his desk without a word to anyone and Wanda frowned sympathetically at him as Jack went to his own to type up the report. They didn’t get called out for the rest of their shift and Jack suspected it was intentional. It gave him ample time to delve deeply into his work to try and forget about the glassy eyes of the omega. It worked, but only for so much time. 

Their shift ended and Brock left without a word to him or anyone else. 

** ** ** **

Jack’s dreams were full of the blood thick gargling breaths and bloody hands. 

Jack didn’t expect his phone to wake him up but he rolled over, groping for it. His apartment was bare boned. Really it was only for sleeping. He’d yet to touch the kitchen opting for take out because it was simple. The only things used religiously was the coffee pot. 

“Hello?”

“I’m outside your place.” 

Rumlow? “How do you know where I live?” 

“I checked the records. Get out here.”

Jack had a very good idea of what this was about. He wasn’t interested in risking his badge but if an officer managed to get away with a faulty warrant because she nabbed the guy then maybe the brass would treat him the same. “Gimme ten. And you’re buying me a coffee.” 

“Sure.” 

He threw on a gray tee and stepped into a pair of jeans. He stopped by the bathroom to wash his face and slick back his dark hair. He looked like he hadn’t even slept, dark bags under his green eyes. He looked awfully pale but that was the side effect of working graveyard. He grabbed his keys and locked his apartment door before heading out. Rumlow was in a black Jeep, looking far more put together than Jack. He also looked a bit like a douche bag with his black sunglasses on a cloudy day. 

Jack slid into the passenger seat, surprisingly already used to being forever banished to shotgun. “Danny had an old pimp. Used to supply him heroin back when he was using.” Rumlow said in lue of a greeting. “Usually spends his day in a shitty cafe on the south side.” 

“So that’s where we’re headed?” 

“Yup.” 

The south side was Brooklyn, a low income area where illegal activities were aplenty. Rumlow knew the area well, but Jack thought it was a bit dangerous for two officers out of uniform, not to  
mention the risk of Rumlow’s car getting stripped. 

“You sure you wanna park here?”

“I grew up here.” That took Jack by surprise. “They won’t fuck with me.” 

“Oh.” 

The cafe was dingy with a dirty faded red awning. There was a cluster of young kids passing an e-cigarette. Once they caught sight of Rumlow it was hastily hidden. He marched over and held out his hands and the kid with a top fade huffed. 

“Gimme it or I’m gonna tell your mother.” 

The kid clicked his tongue in frustration but passed it over and they all scurried away. 

Jack was impressed he had so much sway. Rumlow stowed the vape stick and then pushed open the door to the cafe. Jack felt naked without his gun. He had yet to register his privately owned pistol with the station so he wasn’t able to carry it on his person yet, on duty or off. Rumlow had his so that was a small comfort. There was a dead eyed heavy set woman behind the counter and it was impossible to distinguish her dynamic under the stench of burnt coffee and cigarette smoke. In the corner booth Jack saw an Alpha, casually counting a fistful of bills while a tweaking omega sat opposite him. 

“Grant, long time no see.” 

The Alpha looked up, panicked and tried to stuff the wad of bills away. “Whatcha want Rumlow? Hasslin’ me in your free time I see. Should report you.” 

“Reasonable cause. You hear about what happened last night?” 

Jack watched closely for a tell as the dark haired man squinted eyes looking confused. “I dunno what you’re talking about.” 

“See, I don’t believe you.” Rumlow crossed the same and leaned his weight on to the table. 

The Alpha shrunk away a bit and the tweaker tried to slip out of the booth. Jack stepped up to block her. It was a shame to see her sullen face. She stunk of artificial heat just like the prostitutes from last night but she hadn’t been there. Jack was fairly certain that night would be forever burned into his memory. 

“I don’t know,” Grant stressed. 

“Danny was shot.” 

“What?” the shock was genuine. Grant’s jaw dropped. “No. No one would hurt Danny. Kid’s flaky but the johns like him.” 

Grant shook his head hard and Brock straightened up. This wasn’t an act. 

“Was he working for someone else?” 

“Someone else? Who would he….” Grant shook his head again. “Is he okay?”

Rumlow didn’t reply and Grant dropped his face into his head before looking up at Rumlow intently. “You had to get him fucked up in your shit. Getting him to tell you shit he had no business talking about. This is on you Rumlow. That kid is dead because of you.” 

Rumlow didn’t seem shaken by that. If anything he looked more grim. “I know. This is personal.” 

“Fuckin’ right it is.” Grant ran his fingers through his hair. “There’s a new guy. He tried to steal some bodies from me a few weeks back.” 

“Name?”

“I dunno. He hooked Perri. If you can find her, she’ll be able to get you a name. She worked with Danny a few months back.” 

“Alright.” 

“You better get that fucker, Rumlow. You owe Danny that much.” 

Jack didn’t expect him to respond to that but Rumlow said, “I know.” 

Rumlow took him back home much to Jack’s surprise. “You aren’t going to follow up on that lead?”

“I don't know how things worked back where you’re from but here prostitutes don’t hit the street until night. If shit’s slow enough we’ll check it out.” 

It made sense but it left Jack with a day of puttering around. Eventually he went to the gym and tried not to worry about how Rumlow was doing. And when he’d finally be on a first name basis with him. 

Their night was too busy to follow up and Rumlow let him know that Banner kept redtaping him. It was a clear irritant to him but he didn’t push it. They ate at Denny’s and Jack finally asked, “What’s the deal with Grant?”

Rumlow had been staring at the window chewing on a strip of bacon. “He’s a pimp, small time. He likes to pump his bodies with drugs to keep them loyal but besides that he’s harmless. Not the kind to rough them up.”

Meaning he wasn’t a priority. Jack thought that he could maybe understand that thought process with due time. “I’m… I’m really sorry about Danny, Rumlow.”

“So am I. I failed him. Shoulda known better than to use him like that. He was too young.” Rumlow pushed his plate away and Jack felt bad for bringing it up. Jack nudged it back his way and Rumlow glared at him “Don’t start that Alpha shit. I’m just starting to not despise you.” 

That was progress, right?

** ** ** **

Three nights later they finally had a chance to interview prostitutes. Perri hadn’t been around during the shooting -- or she’d made herself scarce because it was planned. Rumlow was hesitant to get into a premeditated murder Jack found. He was holding out hope it was gang violence and Danny had simply gotten caught in the middle of it by accident. Rumlow needed that kind of blame relief and Jack understood. 

They pulled over a speeder and in the middle of the stop got a 10-45 that made Jack’s eyes roll. Animal carcasses always seemed below them. He radioed back for a 10-29 of the driver and was pleased to hear she had a warrant for a missed court date. It wasn’t that he was excited to arrest her but he was behind on paperwork from their busy nights and it would be nice to catch up. 

She was vicious though, swearing and spitting at them while Rumlow cuffed her. “Do you understand your rights as I’ve read them to you?” 

“Go fuck yourself.” 

“I think that’s a yes,” Brock said, steering back. It wasn’t going to kill their case because there was no evidence needed for the arrest due to the warrant. “Let’s go.” 

In the back of the car she kicked at the plexiglass furiously. It was a relief to get her booked and Jack gladly dove into paper work. He had just finished his report when Rumlow appeared at his shoulder. Jack jumped violently, nearly upturning his coffee onto his keyboard. “What the fuck.” 

“Let’s go.” 

“I have reports to do.”

“Fuck reports, let’s go.” 

So Jack found himself in a slickback heading towards what he suspected was a prostitute hang out. The search was shockingly easy. An omega who had been friends with Danny, Vince, told them she worked on 5th around the abandoned industrial building. He gave the information warily, making Rumlow swear he wouldn’t tell that Vince had given them information. Rumlow swore with a grim nod, undoubtedly thinking about Danny’s fate after doing the exact same thing. 

“We’re going to get this son of a bitch and he’s going away for a long time.” Jack said.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

There was an obvious uptick in quality. The sad eyes of desperate omegas had been replaced with escort worthy ones. Brock parked and immediately an omega strolled over, confident and proud. “Hey there.” he greeted and then caught sight of the uniforms and looked panicked. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

“We aren’t here to take anyone in,” Brock said quickly. “I just need to talk to Perri.” 

He hummed and hawed before going to get her. Perri was pretty. Blonde feathered hair with dyed tips, wearing a lilac dress that complimented her hips but wasn’t tight. “How can I help you Officer…” she leaned forward to squint at the name tag in the poor lighting. “Rumlow?” 

“A prostitute, Danny Cortez, was shot and killed last week.” 

She gasped seemingly genuinely horrified. “Oh my goodness, that’s horrible, just terrible. Why would anyone hurt him?” 

“So you knew him.” 

Tears had pooled into her emerald eyes and carefully wiped it away. Jack opened the glovebox and offered a napkin. She took it with a shaky smile. 

“Yes. He worked with us for a while over here but… You gotta stay clean, you know? He had a lot of trouble so Alexander had to cut him loose until he cleaned up.” 

“Does Alexander have a last name?”

“Pierce.”

“Where can I find this Alexander Pierce?”

Perri didn’t answer immediately so Jack pressed, “We’re trying to do right by Danny.” 

She nodded. “Spauldings.” 

“The strip club?”

“He works out of the back but don’t tell him that I told you. Once you work with the police you get a big target on you.” 

Jack wished people would stop reminding Rumlow of that. He knew it was just salt in the wound. “Mums the word. Stay safe out here.” 

“Thank you. I really hope you get this guy.”

“Me too.” 

** ** ** **

Spauldings was an upscale strip club, a burly bouncer at the door. They flashed their badges and he pulled open the door. Immediately heavy bass spilled out onto the street. It wasn’t very crowded but seeing as it was a Thursday it wasn’t altogether surprising. Topless dancers on small stages littered the floor with a long bar boasting expensive drinks. They approached the bartender first asking about an Alexander Pierce. The bartender didn’t jerk him around and nodded towards a door labeled VIP only. Rumlow thanked him and they headed over. Jack kept his hand on his side arm, uncertain of what to expect. Armed bodyguards were always a possibility when dealing with highbrow criminals. 

It was easy to pick out Alexander. He was surrounded by topless omegas, perched around him on a black leather couch as another twirled around a pole. The omegas stared and Alexander offered a wide smile. “Officers! What a surprise.”

“Alexander.” Jack said, to be sure. 

“That would be me. Why don’t you ladies get back on the floor hmm? It seems work has come up.” 

They did so reluctantly and several cast dirty looks their way. Alexander was older than expected, silver hair and wrinkles but below that was a man who was once very good looking. 

“There was a shooting, a prostitute that you used to work for you was hit.” 

“Prostitute? No, I run an escort business. What my employees decide to do afterwards is completely up to them but they are forbidden to exchange money for those types of services.” 

Rumlow rolled his eyes. “Fine, one of your old escorts.” 

“That is just terrible. What is their name?”

“Danny Cortez. He was young.” 

Alexander frowned. “Oh dear. I let him go maybe three weeks ago because he was using -- my business has standards, you see -- I hoped for him to clean up and come back to me. He was very sweet. Such a shame.”

“Do you know who was dealing to him?” Jack tried. Maybe Danny had skipped out on too many payments and a new dealer wanted to make an example of him. “Or maybe people who were upset with him.” 

Alexander pondered it and then said, “Well… There was an issue when he was employed by me. I hire people to vet those who come by for services, make sure they don’t mean any harm. Well a bad seed slipped through and Danny told them and that guy… Well, I take the protection of omegas very serious, as do those I employ. Allow me to go upstairs to my office and pull his name. This one was an online reservation if I remember correctly” 

“Mind if we come along?” 

“Not in the slightest.” 

Samuel Beaucoup. The fact his address was listed was the cherry on top. Alexander passed over the printed paper and then spread his arms wide. “Is there anything more I can do?”

“You’ve done plenty, thank you.” 

“My door is always open for those in blue. No secrets here.” 

Jack rolled his eyes and Brock snorted. “Of course not.” 

As soon as they were back in the cruiser Brock radioed in for a 10-29 with priors. It was Clint tonight so the response came back promptly. “Heck of a bad guy. He’s got four open warrants, two from drug court. Assault and battery back in ‘08, burglary in 2010, attempted sexual assault in 2012, possession in 2015… Should I continue?”

“Any solicitation?” 

“Yup. 2017 and again in 2019.” 

“Thanks.” 

“10-4.” 

“Sounds like our guy.” 

“Sounds like it.” 

Jack could see him considering it, going so far as to arrest the fucker himself but Jack was starting to like working with Rumlow and if he got benched Jack would have to get used to a whole other partner. “You should give it to Detective Banner.” 

“I know I should.” 

“I don’t want to lose you as my partner, Rumlow.” 

“Call me Brock.” 

** ** ** **

Danny Cortez’s case was closed by the time they got back into work. The gun was still in Beaucoup’s possession and he had cracked under the slightest pressure Banner put on him. He had been high at the time, meth of all things, and he wasn’t the kind of Alpha who respected omegas in the least. Rumlow smiled for the first time in weeks when Banner told him. Jack was glad he’d gotten the closure that the murder hadn’t been a result of being his informant. 

“Thanks,” Brock said when they were sitting a bar on their night off drinking a few beers

“For what?” 

“For helping me on this investigation.” 

“It was more you than me,” Jack replied. 

“No, people have a habit of overlooking omega who don’t have an Alpha to enforce it. It sucks but it’s the reality.” 

“It shouldn’t be.” 

“You’re goddamn right.” 

With that case under their belt Jack was anxious for their next one. Or maybe he was just anxious to spend more time with this fierce omega. Either way, it felt like a win. And getting on a first name basis with Brock was a win within itself. He just hoped he’d be able to get closer to him, should he play his cards right.


End file.
